Another Light
by Niten
Summary: A look into Roger's head during the last fight with Fau and a few words from an old friend. Not as original as my other two Big O fics, but this is practice for the next.


I don't own Big O, and I honestly wouldn't care to.

Wouldn't mind the royalties, though.

So here it is—another unedited piece of junk. I've been stuck for way too long on my original pieces, yet I was able to crank this out in about 3-4 hours. Only had to relocate myself twice, which isn't bad.

Oh, and spoiler alert, big time. If you haven't seen the last two episodes, I'd advise you to stay away until you have. And maybe even after you have.

**Another Light**

The first thing he had noticed about her was how gentle her touch was. Sure he had seen her features; petite frame, short red hair, her careful but awkward steps…but he hadn't really been paying much attention to her then. His only concern at that point in time was that the transaction went smoothly.

Later he had been surprised, after finding her to be an android, that her hands were soft and had a certain amount of warmth. They felt real enough, though he had no idea how. She was as heavy as any other android looked, yet every time he had held her her "skin" had been as pliable as flesh to a certain extent.

That was all he could think about now, in the cockpit of Big O. How that had been taken from him over something as trivial as memories in order to activate a machine. A machine that had died a number of times in the past.

A machine that was about to die again.

Smoke and dust billowed about in the air, and in the distance two pinpoints of light told him exactly where his quarry was.

"Big Fau… Alex Rosewater…" he began, hearing the anger in his own voice. "People don't want a world in which gods quarrel. One god is enough!"

From inside the cockpit of Big O he shook his head. He felt his veins pump with the adrenaline that had been the precursor to the fight with Big Duo only hours before. The image of Dorothy lying dead at the mansion flashed through his mind, and the recent memory of her playing the piano for him came unbidden. "Everyone else might be able to forgive you for the sins you've committed to obtain your power…but I won't!"

Big O charged, bringing its heavy-plated arms to bear as a shield in anticipation of Fau's first strike. Roger somehow knew how Alex and Fau would fight, though he wasn't getting the usual flood of images that had come in previous fights. This time, things simply were.

The large black metal fist crashed into the pale megadeus' face, doing little in the way of impact damage. However, as with almost every other punch Big O threw, the piston at the elbow drew back, sucking in incredible amounts of air. With an electronic thrust, the piston forced the air out of specially designed vents around the fist in a rush that had ripped torn through the armor of other megadeuses like so much paper.

But this time Roger was fighting a Big with memories of the past—as well as Dorothy's memories. A field of pure energy diverted the blast, forcing it out against the surface of the now-invisible again wall, causing debris in the surrounding area to tear away with unnatural force.

_Damn!_ Roger thought, reflexively bringing the other fist to bear. Fau was completely awake and more experienced than O, harnessing powers Roger couldn't even fathom or anticipate. Likewise Fau had Dorothy's memories of his previous fights, giving Fau a tactical advantage. Not wanting to give Fau the chance to bring some unknown weapon to bear, Roger began slugging the chest of the opposing machine repeatedly, hoping to perhaps rattle the pilot.

One, two, three… his blows kept hitting some impenetrable wall. Fau retreated a step with each blow, though Roger couldn't tell if it was being forced to do so or not. Finally the black heavy gauntlet collided with the other mecha's face.

The victory was short lived, however, as Fau used the force of the momentum to adjust its footing and drop into an attack posture. The right fist began spinning at an impossible speed, and Roger nearly missed getting his shield-like forearm up in time to keep the blow from striking home.

The air from the spinning wrist blade caused yet another storm of debris to take to the air, momentarily blinding Roger. Before he could properly react, the deadly weapon came down like a cudgel, striking Big O on the head and shattering the amplification crystal like cheap glass. Roger felt the already devastated ground give way under the force of the blow, forcing him to struggle to hold his footing lest he fall into a prone position.

Roger felt his teeth jar from the shock. An intense headache was beginning to cloud his consciousness, and he worked furiously, inefficiently at reorienting Big O to fight. He brought O's fists up and forward, hoping that by keeping their range of movement more small, he could buy some time, but before they got into place, another blow landed just in front of the cockpit viewing area, sending the black megadeus reeling backwards.

With no time to think and less to react, Roger considered himself done for. Big O, however, was not so willing to give in, and the forward firing grappling chains launched out, flying to either side of Fau and gripping into the wall of the newly formed crater behind.

In almost perfect harmony, Roger flipped open the weapons panel, even as Big O and he worked together to regain proper footing, and slapped his open palm against the revealed buttons. There was a lurch as the cockpit jerked upward in order to expose the flechette cannons mounted in the chest and shoulders, as well as the missile bays in the abdomen. A hailstorm of fire and smoke ensued, creating a deafening roar that Roger couldn't hear.

His body began to relax, unconsciousness threatening to slip in despite the pounding of the adrenaline in his bloodstream. He slumped forward, hoping beyond hope that it was done…there was little left in him. Fighting off the darkness that loomed threateningly at the edge of his vision, closing rapidly in on him, he managed to capture a glimpse of Fau's face in the monitor just before the spinning fist collided with the view port of the cockpit.

The darkness took him quickly then, but not faster than the last beat of his heart or a last thought flashed through his mind.

_I'm sorry, Dorothy…_

He was in a place that wasn't dark, but it wasn't light, either. There wasn't anything, insofar as he could tell. It simply _was_, and for some reason he knew he didn't need to question it beyond that.

A chuckle from…behind? Was there a front or rear in this place?...nearby…caused his blood to run cold. He jerked…in some direction…and found himself…looking?...at Schwarzwald.

"It seems the little lapdog has run into some trouble," the walking mummy-man stated.

Trouble? What was he talking about?

Now the man openly laughed; a laugh that had no mirth, but only revealed itself when the irony of the present reached a certain level. Roger got the impression the man was sitting in a slouched version of the lotus position, and was reaffirmed in this when the man slapped his knee once before standing. "Blind fool. You're just like the others; asking pointless questions when you should be asking the ones that matter. Too busy looking to see what was there all along."

The masked face was suddenly within inches of Roger's, thrust there at an angle slightly skew from normal. "Listen well, Negotiator, for there is little time. None of this is real in the sense you view reality. There is more to it all, more than even I can see, but there is less than you would think."

"What do you mean?"

Schwarzwald spun on his heel and turned his back to Roger, taking a few steps away. His arms reached…towards the sky? Was there a sky? Was there even an up or down?...upward, his palms open and his head thrust back as though in a state of exultation, as if he were revealing something so large one had to take a hundred steps back to see it in one glimpse. "We are rats, negotiator. We are trapped under a false sky. We have been shut off from the heavens, though it was not willed so by heaven. This place is just another dome." He relaxed his arms a little, though still kept them up, and turned his head so that his glass-covered eye seemed to be looking at him through its corner. "I have told you this much before."

Roger's brow furrowed, and he tried to remember. When had…?

The madman cackled. "A bigger fool than I imagined. It is hard to believe that you are all the hope that remains."

The Negotiator shook his head. "Shut up! Say something that makes sense!"

Again the man was in Roger's face, and Roger wondered if he had been wearing that silly jester's costume all along and he hadn't noticed it. "Hmmm…" the man began, moving his head around as a bird does when it is inspecting something. "Hm, hm, hm! You're a real piece of work, you know! But it seems I was mistaken. You aren't the only hope…at least, not the only part of it."

Roger wanted to reach up and grab the man, give him a good shake. But he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Violence was only to be used when all other forms of negotiation failed. It was Roger's rule. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that being cryptic isn't mysterious? It's just annoying."

Schwarzwald wasn't paying him any attention, though. His bandages and his coat…coat?...where blowing in the…what wind?...and his arms were stretched out to his sides, his palms upturned. He laughed that harsh, ironic laugh. "What lies beyond Memory, Negotiator? There is but one truth. If you avert your eyes from it, you will always remain nothing more than a puppet."

_What lies beyond…memory?_

"In the hearts of all men there lurks a beast. All that holds the beast back is hope. When hope is gone, a man becomes the worst kind of monster. Don't you agree, Negotiator?"

"…Hope…?"

Schwarzwald's hands fell, and his faced turned upward. "The torch is passed. Now it is time to up and fight!"

Roger's eyes snapped open. Gravity was pulling on his chest, telling him he was on his back. He knew he was in Big O. He remembered.

"Big O! Can you move?" His foot pressed on its pedal.

The megadeus responded quickly, its strength rapidly returning. Despite its prone position, it fought for footing.

And the world was suddenly flying past him.

He knew he was falling—he had been thrown. He had no idea where he would fall, but Roger Smith knew one thing; wherever he fell, Fau and Rosewater were going with him.

The grappling chains shot out, their advanced guiding systems sending them on a course around Fau's neck. A slight jerk told Roger that he had succeeded at least in that.

A semi-solid wall of water halted Big O's fall for a brief instant. Over the impact, though, he thought he heard someone call his name, but he knew he was imagining things.

Water began flooding the cockpit, but Roger was rattled, exhausted… Again he felt a shift in gravity's pull. He was moving. But he didn't know how. He didn't know what to do.

He couldn't see out the glass dome of the cockpit—it was too fogged up by the sudden change in temperature. For a moment he thought he saw light in the direction he figured was up—

Another jerk, rapidly followed by a sinking feeling. The waters kept coming.

_I'm…falling…_ he thought. How far would he fall? How deep did he have to go? It was getting dark again all too quickly.

Something tingled. He couldn't be sure what it was…he didn't care. He was sinking. He would be dead soon. Everything he had worked so hard to protect would be finished.

_Death_…_obscurity…_ "Big O… Is this…what you…we want? If we give up like this…we'll become the same." He wanted to laugh. "We've always been here. Together. Right? Is this it for us, then?"

The feeling subsided. Had something just happened? Had Big O just given up? The water began tickling his lips. Then he felt the air expelled from his nose bouncing off the fluid back into his face. His eyes slipped closed, though not of his volition. Was he running out of air that fast? Couldn't he at least watch the bubbles escaping?

His mind began to wander, and he struggled to keep it focused. He began musing to himself, to try and retain his consciousness. "If I'm cut, I bleed." A snort-like laughter came unbidden, and he instantly regretted the action. This only reinforced his next thought; "…and I have all too many faults." It was harder to keep focused. He began to drift. "I've always been the same man…Roger Smith…but…who am I?"

Deep. How deep had he gone? How much further? Was he going to fall forever?

A light, brighter than any other he had seen forced him to open his eyes. Words he had read somewhere else came unbidden to his mind. _This world, what is it? _The light became so intense he was blinded, but he couldn't look away, and the words came again, more forcefully. _This world…what is it?_

And he remembered. Everything he had ever known, countless things he hadn't…he knew it all. He remembered the sin, the betrayal, the carnage… He wanted to shut it out, but they continued to flood in.

_The sun was shining, and the city was alive with a million people._

_What is this?_

_Roger was shaking hands with Gordon Rosewater, agreeing to proceed with the project as planned._

_Oh God… Did I really?_

He remembered…

"You see now, Negotiator," Schwarzwald whispered sadistically.

_No…_

_He was seeing himself. His face stared blankly back at him. Behind that mask of synthetic skin was a mass of metal, nano-composite plastics and elastics, nanomachines and synthesized organs. A toy._

He remembered…

"Face the truth."

_NO!_

_And _she_ was there, clutching the incomplete book he had read so long ago, looking at an all too familiar stage set, watching eerily familiar scenes on a video screen…_

And the man was laughing insanely. "And you see! Is it not grand? Oh the bitch-goddess that is irony, who plans her whims and moves everything accordingly!"

He remembered…

_You're…these memories you're showing me…they…they are…_

This time the voice was his own. "Yes, Roger Smith. There is but one truth."

And something brushed against him. Something strangely warm, promising. It jostled him methodically, purposefully. He had no choice but to try and open his eyes in the filthy water.

He couldn't see, but he knew. He knew who she was and what she was. She was the other hope that Schwarzwald had mentioned. She was his complement. She was his.

_Dorothy…_

She pressed something against his mouth, forced it between his lips and teeth. But she was too late. The pressure was too great. His lungs could not accept the air. His eyes closed, and he felt the water enter…

"Hmmm… Hm, hm, hm! A real piece of work! Amazing."

_Shut up._

"So you give up just like that? You survive everything up until now, and you give up?" Laughter. "A worthless puppet."

_There's no reason to stay. I have to pay for what I…what Rog…what we've done._

"Hmph. And you think death is the way to atone? A cowards way out. Rosewater sentenced you to death, but Rosewater is not the law."

_He is the law now_.

"Not until you let him be."

_He has more right to live than I do…_

"And become a pitiful, petulant, willful god? He's a waste of space. I think you had best get going."

_Just leave me alone…_

"Oh no, Negotiator. Truth and Justice demand you pay. The price is life. Now wake up, and see the world in another light."

_No…_

It was with a jar more violent than anything he had ever felt that he woke up, and the sudden decompression of the cockpit forced the water from his lungs, sending him into a violent wracking cough.

"Dorothy!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide open. It could be none other. Only she would wake him in such a cruel and brutal manner.

He noticed her face was even more beautiful wet. Everything about her was more beautiful than he remembered—_all_ that he remembered. He wanted nothing more than to jump out of the seat and touch her, hold her.

Then it struck him. She was _alive_ again! But her memories…?

Schwarzwald's laughter echoed in his mind. _Pointless questions…_

Roger gave his head a mental shake. He was just happy to see her. "You could have come up with a more gentle way to bring me around, you know!" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, hoping she would catch the hint. "Like…mouth-to-mouth…or something…"

He could see _her_ eyebrow arc upward, but her face remained absolutely passive, as ever. His new memories of her quickly displaced the old. He remembered her now as she is, not as _she_ was. Her voice was that melodic, single note he had grown to enjoy hearing. "If you knew my air tank's displacement capacity, you'd regret those words."

It was all he could do to keep from laughing. A lopsided grin splayed across his face. "You're R. Dorothy, all right…"

He gripped the controls of the megadeus; his partner. His fatigue was gone. He had purpose again. He had drive.

"IT'S SHOW TIME!"

-----Checkered Flag-------

Yeah…that was bad. But I needed the practice with Schwarzwald. I had to find a way to squeeze in the name of his typewriter. I don't know if I could give up my writing utensil, even for a megadeus, so I figure there should be some kind of tribute to it.

Huzzah.

So do me a favor and tear this one up, would ya?


End file.
